A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After
by MeredithMcSteamy
Summary: While Meredith and her fiance are happily working towards a future together, a shadow from the past decides he wants the life with her he left behind. With Derek out to sabotage, Meredith and Mark worry their wedding may be ruined before it starts. M
1. Prologue: You're Invited To

**Title**: _A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After  
_**Author**: _MeredithMcSteamy_  
**Warning**: _Sexual situations, some strong language._  
**Spoilers**: _All Seasons, just in case_  
**Genre**: _Romance/Drama_  
**Relationship(s)**: _Mer/Mark, some Mer/Der, others to be decided..._  
**Summary**: _When Derek finds out that Meredith has moved on, he decides he wants her back in his life. Too bad he didn't want her until she was already happy with someone else. He's not about to let her go though, even if she's happier without him._  
**Disclaimer**:_ I do not own any rights to Grey's Anatomy or the characters involved._

**_A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After  
_-**_Prologue_**-**

Derek was gobsmacked. Utterly stunned. His hand was shaking, his eyes were burning from forgetting to blink, and he was fairly certain he'd forgotten how to breathe. He hadn't been back to Seattle in three years, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect the news he received that morning. It came in the mail, looking innocent in it's pale vanilla envelope. Black calligraphy stating his name elegantly. The return address was for his old boss, Webber, and he assumed it was just a "how've you been?" type letter, but what he found was completely not expected. He'd left three years prior because Webber simply wasn't willing to see his tentatively titled step-daughter, of sorts, fall into a relationship with a man who was likely going to become just like him. Derek had thought he could balance both, but Webber didn't think it possible. So Derek made a choice, he decided that his career was simply all that he'd worked for his entire life and despite how much loved Meredith, he was tired of fighting to have her. It seemed their relationship was just one giant uphill battle. It didn't mean he didn't love her, he always would, but he made a choice. He moved back to New York and he found himself Chief Surgeon for a hospital that wasn't the one he'd been working hard in for all of his residency, but he loved it nonetheless.

Still, some part of him had always expected to one day return, to tell Webber that he _could_ do it. He could have the marriage, the kids, and the job. However, quickly he learned that being Chief Surgeon was more than he'd ever thought. He worked late hours, sometimes never returning home for days. His office became a place for him to catch up on sleep and he sometimes forgot what it felt like to sleep in. He dated off and on for the first while, never really able to commit to anyone, both because he still loved Meredith and because his job wouldn't allow him to. But with three years under his belt, he was sociably seeing an OB-GYN that worked in his hospital and the irony wasn't lost on him. She was a lovely women, funny and intelligent, but he'd never really let himself open up entirely. He was quite taken with her, just not fully in love yet. He held back, he knew. Still holding on to that dream of returning to Meredith and having that lifelong dream. But his dreams were shattered that morning, like the screaming beep of his pager when an emergency hits him without preamble.

It was arrogant and self-centered of him to believe that she wouldn't move on. That she'd stay in Seattle and pine away for him, waiting for the day he'd return. But still, he felt a burst of irrational anger at her for moving on at all. Some part of him told him that he had right to, what with who she'd decided to move on with. It was like one last dig into his heart, a final twist of the scalpel and all was lost. He couldn't say some part of him thought it _could_ happen, he just wished it hadn't. He was the one who left though and he had no right to judge. It didn't stop him, but he recognized the irrationality behind it. He read the invitation over a fourth time, as if expecting the name attached to hers to somehow change. To what, he didn't know. Perhaps to his own name, though that was completely impossible. He hadn't set eyes on the strawberry blonde in three years and he couldn't believe she'd be happy to see him. In fact, he was surprised he'd been invited at all.

He thought maybe it was _his_ decision to invite him, one last punch in the gut to seal the deal. He'd ruined Derek's life before, why not let him know that he had finally put the last nail in the coffin? But he didn't think Meredith was quite so spiteful and he didn't think she'd allow _him_ to ruin their day by inviting him along to join in. So perhaps it was Webber's idea? Maybe it was message to him to come and fix the mess he'd left behind... He didn't think so. He knew that Webber was just as mad at him for making what he called the "wrong" choice by leaving. He wanted what was best for Meredith and he thought he was doing right by Derek when he told him that becoming Chief wasn't the best idea, but Derek had gone his own way and he'd mucked it all up.

He wondered if perhaps he could change it. If maybe, his arrival in Seattle would be enough to change her mind. Just seeing him, knowing that he cared, might make her rethink her decision to get married to a man who wasn't him. It was arrogant, self absorbed and self serving, but he couldn't hide the hopeful grin that spread across his face. Running a hand through his curly hair, he sighed, making a decision. There was no way that he could still love her and want her and dream of her as much as he did without it being returned. He had to make sure, had to give it his all to get her back. He would go to Seattle and he'd prove to her that she was making the wrong decision. He hoped that she'd see it his way, that she'd come back with him to New York, to live as his wife, as a Chief of Surgery's wife. If anyone would understand, it'd be her. She was Meredith Grey, after all. She'd grown up around it. He'd just have to make her see that she could be happier with him, that her life was not with _him_ but with Derek. There was no way, he was certain, that she could ever love _him_ like she'd loved Derek. It was unfathomable. She was too good for him, too smart and loving, too beautiful and gentle for the likes of_ him_. Derek would show her and he'd return with the dream he'd never quite forgotten.

The invitation was a pale buttery yellow with a black border, the writing a soft blue handwriting that made it somehow friendly and warm. There was a ribbon tie around one center, a thin straw that was made into a bow. The invitation wasn't flowery or feminine, if anything it was rather plain. He figured it somehow fit _them_. Derek knew if he was marrying her, he'd want it to be lavish and large, with every accessory possible. The invitations would probably be flashy, very eye-catching, probably have a couple of scalpels crossing each other at the top. He'd shout it from rooftops that they were getting married, take out ads, and hire a plane to carry a billowing sign. Of course, he knew that Meredith wouldn't appreciate that. She'd probably prefer the low-key invitation and a more private affair. It was that which bothered Derek; that _he_ somehow fit Meredith in a way that Derek didn't.

It made him pause in his plan to change Meredith's mind, perhaps she was happy with _him_. But then, he thought of how their last names would sound together and how his would sound with hers instead. Meredith Sheppard... He preferred, though he knew he was biased. He should probably think of the fact that she'd likely been with _him_ for some time, that it would have taken something big to make her agree to marriage. He probably should have thought about the fact that Meredith really could have a great life with _him_. That _he_ could make her much happier than Derek had. He knew his relationship with her had always been tough. There was never really a smooth time between them, but he was unwilling to believe that _he_ could have given her what Derek had tried to give her. He didn't want to believe that anybody could love Meredith as much as he did; he figured they were soul-mates of sorts. That they were destined to be together, they just had poor timing. Which is why he was taking destiny into his own hands, he would make sure that this time they wouldn't lose each other in the translation. He would have her, just like he'd had her all those years ago. He would show her that _he_ was not as good as Derek could be. That _he_ would just hurt her, and that Derek wouldn't. He would get his dream.

_Chief Surgeon of Seattle Grace Hospital, Richard Webber  
is very pleased to invite you to celebrate the marriage of his daughter..._

_**Meredith Ellis Grey  
**__to  
__**Mark Jacob Sloan**_

_Saturday, the tenth of July, 2010  
__Four o'clock in the afternoon  
__Hotel Monaco - Seattle, Washington_

_Share in their bliss...  
Please RSVP as soon as possible._

_Invitation admits you and one guest._

* * *

**A/N **_This idea's been nagging me for awhile, so I hope you like how it started. I got an account just so I could start writing for this fandom, so I hope this story is welcomed! I haven't decided on side couples... What do you think? Alex/Izzie? Callie/George? Alex/Callie, Izzie/George? And should Burke be with Cristina after the disastrous wedding escapade? I'll try and update soon. Let me know what you think. Review!_


	2. Chapter One: Calm Before The Storm

**_A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After_**

_Chapter One_

_It's surprising how one day your whole life can feel like it's on the verge of falling apart entirely. Your dog dies, your boyfriend has a wife, your friends are breaking each others hearts, you become a dirty mistress, then an adulterous whore, you get a new boyfriend but you can't love him, your old boyfriend comes back but he can't love you without hurting you, things get better but then your step mom dies, your father blames you, you almost kill yourself, twice, your mom dies, and then your boyfriend thinks you're just too dark and twisty to keep fighting for, so he leaves. Life is not the fairest of journeys; it guts you, stomps on you, and leaves you in a pile of broken emotion. These are the moments where big decisions are made. You can reach out, take another's hand and start anew, or you can lay there and wait for a Mac truck to finish the job._

Meredith strode down the hallway, a clipboard in her hand and her brow furrowed as she looked over the stats of a man who'd come in a week prior with what appeared to be a benign brain tumor but was throwing haywire signs of being far more deadly then first thought. At forty-two years old, Kale Phillips was on his way home to his wife and two children when he had a sudden seizure and crashed his car into three others. Now sedated against the pain from the deep burns on his entire right side from when the cigarette he'd been enjoying caught the interior of the car while he lay immobile and unconscious, his life and appearance hung in the balance of her and the resident plastic surgeon. Nurses, interns, residents, and the like moved in a fast pace all around her; running, jogging, fast walking. Their voices mingled together and created a loud echo of noises that never seemed to dim. Phones rang, beepers beeped, feet scuffled across the floor. Patients and wannabe-patients called out for attention and help, which Meredith couldn't help but feel rather calm in hearing. She was used to this, had been born and raised to be a surgeon. Her mother was a highly known and sought out one, her sort-of step-father was the Chief of the hospital she was currently working at, all of her friends and her fiancé were doctors.

When she was younger, part of her had rebelled against the idea of being a doctor, of treating people and spending the majority of her days taking care of somebody else. She'd grown up with Ellis as her mother and she'd never been what anybody could call "doting." She was all about being precise and being the best; something Meredith could understand now, but didn't allow it to take over her life, like it had her mothers. Meredith loved being a surgeon; she loved the high of saving a life, the calm that enveloped her when she knew that another person had been saved. But more than that, she loved the atmosphere of a hospital. Sure, it was loud and fast and sometimes she wished she could get more sleep and there were days when the patients didn't make it, but she still loved it. It could be taxing, both emotionally and physically, but there were rewards that lasted a lifetime. Not just the title of being a great surgeon, or the knowledge that people all over the world would one day know of you, but the feeling she got when she returned to her home and crawled into bed. A lightness in her chest, a swelling of her smile, a boost to her pride. She saved lives. It was as simple as that.

Some were in it for the money, some for the title and credit, and others for all of the above. Meredith was not the shallow surgeon that cared little for human life, but one who cared more for it than she probably should. There were cases that she got too close to, moments where she felt like she just couldn't do it anymore and times still, after four years, that she felt like she wasn't putting a dent in the amount of injured and hurt people. It was at these moments that Mark told her that she couldn't look at it as if she was trying to save the world, or stop all of the stupidity and anger and all that caused these people to enter the ER. She was trying to save one life. He told her that it wasn't a goal; she shouldn't be looking at the body count or how many more she could help. She had to focus on the one and put all of herself into saving just that one person, and then she could move onto another. But she had to stop taking them all on as if they were all her responsibility. And she learned that she could keep fighting, she could make it through the hard days. She may lose people, but she could say that she had given it her all, that she had put all of her focus onto that person, and if they didn't make it, then it was not by her doing, but the situation itself. Meredith Grey, soon to be Sloan, was a surgeon through and through.

She felt a hand slide across her back and settle over her ribs, causing her feet to come to a halt. She could feel the heat of his palm through the thin scrubs she was wearing and felt a familiar shiver run down her spine. His body stepped closer and hers seemed to fall back a step to lean into him. Her head fell onto his chest, feeling his chin drop down to sit on top of her hair. His hand rubbed her side, slow and soothing as he read the clipboard that she held a little higher. Three years of friendship and intimacy had left them with a comfortable pattern that was all their own. They were used to certain actions that were unique only to each other and adjusted to that, leaving them in a relationship unlike any before for either of them. In the past they'd been left with miscommunication and constant uncertainty, but with her and Mark, they understood each other. He was blunt and to the point and if he wanted her to know something, he told her. She didn't like things to be left up in the air, she hated it when her former boyfriends ignored the problem or tried to ply her with a half answer. With Mark, she knew what she was getting and was beyond happy with it.

"Are we working the nerve reconstruction and skin graft first or did you have dibs on fiddling with the brain?" he finally asked, his voice rather gruff. It was early, they'd only started shift a half hour or so before and she knew that he was only on his second coffee. He had to have three before he could be his usual self without being extra mean. He never took it out on her, but she was used to sulky morning Mark. They'd stopped at a Starbucks on their way in, getting their usual before they started their morning rounds.

"We find out in a few hours. I put a rush on the test results. He hasn't had the tumor looked at since he was a little kid. Technology has changed and if it's grown since, which I think it has, we're going to need to get it out of there as soon as possible."

Mark nodded, causing her head to nod with him, making her smile lightly. They must've been quite the sight. Their relationship was nothing new to the other doctors and nurses but she knew there had been a pool going around for the first year about when one of them would cheat or the relationship would end. By the second year, it changed to when they were going to get married and whether or not it'd be because she was pregnant. She wasn't surprised to find out that Bailey had won for the two year mark for when Mark would pop the question and she put money down that they weren't having a baby, which was true. Mark found it all amusing and Meredith wasn't completely sure that he hadn't tipped Bailey off ahead of time. He seemed to be one of the few who weren't scared or intimidated her, and on occasion he'd even made her smile. A big accomplishment!

"Where are you headed now?" he asked, his thumb gently massaging circles into her back unconsciously. It was a habit of his when he was distracted.

"I have interns coming in soon; I have to get them prepped to go. First I'm stopping by to see Peters," she told him, lowering the clipboard and relaxing a little more into his chest. He offered her his half empty cup of coffee and she gratefully took a sip.

"That's the guy with carotid artery stenosis, right?" Mark asked, taking the cup back for her when she was done and taking a guzzle himself.

She nodded, sighing to herself. "The antiplatelet drugs aren't working."

"When's surgery then?" he wondered, tossing the empty into the garbage nearby.

"Tomorrow. I'm scrubbing in with Jacobs," she told him, a small, amused smile finding her mouth when she just knew he was rolling his eyes. "I don't think he's going to hit on me during surgery, Mark."

"You never know, Grey," he muttered, his hand tightening on her side. "Guy's a manwhore; doesn't even pause when you wave the ring in front of him."

Meredith snorted. "Is this really a subject you're able to talk about objectively?"

She felt the rumble of his laughter roll up in his chest. "I never said I wasn't flawed... He's not even that good at it."

"Then why are you so worried?" she asked, lifting a brow though she knew he couldn't see her face from the angle they were standing.

"I'm not worried," he replied smugly, his hand slowly rising to a place that would be completely inappropriate given they were standing in the center of a very busy hall. He laughed when her hand swept up and stopped his ascent. "I'd just prefer it if he had enough respect to keep his mouth shut around you."

"Or what?" she asked, turning around to smile up at him. "Are you going to mess him up, Dr. Sloan? Kick his ass for hitting on your woman? Argh!" she said, imitating a caveman and not even trying to hide her amused expression.

He shook his head at her, smirking down at her. She could tell already that he was waking up more and his gruff exterior was melting before her. "I don't have to fight him. I'll give him _the look_," he said with authority.

She snorted, biting her lip.

"What? You don't think 'the look' will stop him?" he asked, his hands finding her hips, thumbs brushing beneath her smock to coax a reaction out of her bare skin.

She shook her head, her bangs slipping out from beneath her ear and covering part of her eye. "I think 'the look' is the only expression you make at him. He probably doesn't know what you look like without it," she told him, shrugging, her free hand resting on the crook of his arm while her other hung by her side, clipboard still in hand.

He frowned, his eyes darkening. "You'd think he'd learn." He wasn't jealous, she knew that. Mark simply didn't _get_ jealous. He was only annoyed that his own status as her fiancé wasn't being noticed; that he himself wasn't being given the respect he believed he deserved. Jacobs was one of Mark's least liked surgeons in the hospital, and Meredith had heard his dislike for the neurosurgeon enough to know that his pointing the finger at Jacobs' interest in her was just another way to point out he'd grown out of being anything remotely like the man he looked down on. She enjoyed disagreeing with him though; it was a hobby of hers.

"It's harmless flirting," she said with a shrug. "If he tries to impregnate me, I'll call out for help," she assured, nodding with a feigned sage expression.

Mark rolled his eyes. "We used to harmlessly flirt. You remember? Now look where you are," he said, lifting a brow.

"You're right. This is all leading up to me leaving you at the altar to run off with the hairy-browed neurosurgeon that has a permanent leer stuck to his face." She smirked, "And nobody thought I could do better than you."

Chuckling, Mark shook his head, rubbing her sides a few times, which she knew meant that he had to get going, despite his desire not to leave. She loved knowing those little mannerisms of his, it reinforced her certainty that they were ready to get married and plan a long term future with each other. "I should check on Peters."

Nodding, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers before he turned and rubbed his cheek over hers, his carefully trimmed whiskers brushing over her sensitive skin and leaving her a little breathless. "Lunch; meet me in that abandoned hallway."

She nodded, feeling slightly unsteady on her feet. "You bringing your own food or you want me to pick something up for you?"

"You know what I like," he said simply. He moved to walk past her, his hand dragging across her stomach. Her head turned to watch him go and she briefly wondered if she'd always feel so intoxicated by him. Two and a half years and the feeling never dulled. Taking a deep breath, she moved to check in on Jacobs before she rounded up her interns and sent them off to various cases.

* * *

Mark Sloan walked through the hallways with a confidence in his step that couldn't be feigned. His white coat swished around his legs against the air that blew past from his large gait. His mind was alert and sharp already, but the desire for a hot coffee was still strong. He'd been up and moving for over six hours, but he'd already had three whiny patients, a nurse that stuttered whenever she tried to talk to him, and an intern that had a tendency to trip and fall into him. He knew he could be intimidating, it was something he took pride in, but if one more person bumped into him, he was going to lose his outwardly impassive exterior and start yelling. He'd barked orders at the intern to get away from him three different times, but every time he turned a corner, there the boy was. He was on his way to the abandoned hallway that he and Meredith often met for lunch, when they had time or made time for just each other. Her group of friends were put out by it on occasion, but he figured since they were getting married that week, they were free to exercise a little alone time.

Plans for the wedding had been going full force for the last four months, mostly headed by Izzie. Originally, Stevens, Yang, and O'Malley weren't very accepting of the idea of them dating. They'd been so-so about them being friends, but it wasn't as if he was at the top of their list for guests at BBQ's or invited him to Joe's for a drink. But Meredith held fast to her friendship with him and with Alex around to say he didn't care who she was friends with, it was her own decision, she was able to tell her friends that she _did_ have the right to have friends they didn't approve of. After Derek left, things for Meredith had been up in the air. Mark had noticed a serious decline in her desire to move, let alone work. Not one for emotional outreach or support, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. So he dropped by to sit with her for lunch one afternoon and didn't say a thing. He simply sat there, ate his food, and nodded hello and goodbye at her; it became a regular silent routine of theirs. He wasn't sure why his presence helped, but one day she turned and said simply, "Thank you." He later found out that every time any of her other friends sat with her, they bombarded her with questions. They wanted to know how she was dealing, if she was all right, did she want to tell them everything that happened. And all she needed was somebody to be there, to just let her know that she wasn't alone, and somehow he'd done that. He watched her slowly transform back into a less dark and lonely version of the Meredith he'd only sort of known.

It wasn't until two months after Derek's desertion of her and the hospital, that he saw a vast change. They'd been just getting off a fifteen hour shift...

_Mark walked down the still busy hallway, his shoulders a little slumped from his long day and his demeanor stating that he wanted a cold beer, a comfortable bed and a remote control in his hand. It bugged him that he'd be going home alone, that there was nobody he could even have that beer with, and he was reminded of just how much he'd screwed things up with Addison and Derek. They'd been his family. His best friends and the people he relied on day to day. They were who he talked to, who he hung out with, who he spent the hours he had off with. Now all he had was Grey, and he had no idea where she was. He'd seen her running around all day long, but she had no time to stop and chat. She'd even missed their regular lunch together and he found that bothered him, probably more that it should. He was out the doors of Seattle Grace, scowling at the rain, when he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. He figured it was just another patient or one of the other doctors or nurses leaving or going, but then he felt a hand grip his shoulder and started slightly. Turning, his expression turned to one of relief, quickly covered by a smirk. "Chasing me, Grey? I thought we were strictly friends?"_

_Rolling her eyes, Meredith, shook her head. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked, sounding rather breathless._

_Mark pondered the question for a second, wondering if he should say something flirty or just give her a standard answer. Since she had a no-nonsense look about her, he simply sighed and told her the truth. "Home; to a beer, a bed, and my trusty TV. Why?"_

"_Make a quick trip with me first?" she asked, her brows lifting with hope._

"_Can't one of your people go with you?" he asked, only slightly exasperated. What could she possibly have to do at eight thirty at night?_

"_You are one of my people," she said with a shrug. "The others are still working, besides Alex who's already at home sleeping. Your beer and TV will wait for you. Come on, Sloan, it's not like I'm asking you to do anything physically taxing."_

_His mouth turned into a smirk. "I'd probably be more inclined if you were," he said, a playful leer on his face as he took in her rain soaked body._

_Snorting, she smiled at him and shook her head. "Put the McSteamy face away. Are you coming or not?" she asked, before turning and walking away, dismissing him._

_Frowning, Mark caught up to her a handful of steps away and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Since I'm one of your people," he said with a feigned serious voice, though he was rather touched by the fact that she did think of him to be such, "I can't in good conscience allow you to do whatever it is you're doing without me." He nodded, directing her towards his car._

_Fifteen minutes later, Mark found himself in the shampoo aisle of a grocery store. He thinned his eyes and sighed exasperatedly at the woman by his side. "Seriously Grey, you brought me shampoo shopping? You know I'm not O'Malley, right? I don't do girly stuff."_

_Meredith looked over at him, amusement shining on her face. "You're here to help me with a very important job, Sloan." She reached out, took a green bottle from the shelf and held it up to him. "Smell."_

_He glared at her, not moving an inch, but she held it up to him expectantly until he finally caved and leaned forward to take a deep whiff. "Smells good. Get it, let's go." He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm._

"_Nope. Gotta find the **right** one," she told him, pulling him back._

"_What d'you mean? That one's good. There's nothing wrong with it. Let's go," he said again, turning once more._

"_My hair always smells like lavender," she told him, sounding almost sad. "I've gotten lavender shampoo for I don't know how long and it's time for a change." She paused for a moment. "It was... He..."_

_Mark stilled, realization dawning. "It was something Derek noticed or liked," he said; a statement rather than a question._

_She nodded rather jerkily, putting the green bottle back on the shelf. "Yes. So it's time for a new Meredith. A new shampoo, a new scent, a new everything."_

"_Everything, huh? I kinda liked you the way you are," he told her sincerely. She looked up at him, gratitude shining in her green eyes. Before she could get mushy on him, he reached out and took a black bottle from the shelf, smelling it. "Not this one. It's too loud for you." _

"_Loud?" she asked, lifting a brow and looking confused._

"_Yeah. Too bold and heavy. You need something more feminine; softer," he said shrugging as he grabbed another bottle._

"_You don't think I'm bold? I'm bold! I can be bold!" she told him rather loudly._

_Mark chuckled, taking out a light blue bottle and sniffing it and then turning his head back to the last bottle he grabbed and smelling it again. "It's not an insult, Grey. You're not meek, either. You're... you. I can't explain it." He waved it off impatiently. "You just give off a feminine, soft look. Soft skin, soft scent, soft heart. You know?" he asked, looking over at her briefly. "Try this one," he said, offering a bottle to her._

_She stared at him a moment before leaning in and inhaling the scent offered. Nodding slowly, a smile creased her mouth. "I like that one."_

"_Me too," he said, putting the grey bottle back and holding onto the light blue as he made a cursory inspection of the widespread shelves of bottles. "Are we done or do you want to keep looking?"_

_She didn't reply right away and he turned to look at her questioningly. She stared at him, her clear green eyes meeting his deep blue steadily, something in her gaze that wasn't there before. "I knew you'd be perfect for this job."_

"_Yeah?" he asked, putting a little amusement into his voice, despite the fact that he'd felt a little breathless there in the silence._

"_Yeah," she said with a decidedly strong nod. Reaching out, she tapped the bottle. "That's the one. We can go now." She started walking out of the aisle, leaving him behind to gather his thoughts. Realizing she was nearly out of the aisle, he hurried after her. Looking up at him as she caught up to her, she smiled, "Chasing me, Sloan? I thought we were strictly friends," she said, reiterating his greeting from earlier._

_Smiling, he chuckled under his breath. "You know, Grey, sometimes shampoo smells differently from the bottle compared to when you've used it," he said in a very serious tone._

_Her smile faded slightly; confusion marring her face. "And...?"_

"_Since you need my expertise on the subject, a bath is in order. I'll lather, you rinse," he said, smirking lasciviously. _

_Her smile returned, eyes glittering with amusement. She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Person or no person, Sloan, you are never getting in my tub with me," she said, waving her finger around._

"_All right," he said, nodding agreeably. Her eyes narrowed, disbelieving his easy retreat. "My tub it is," he said, putting the bottle down on the counter for the cashier to ring through. He smiled as Meredith rolled her eyes, wrapping an easy arm around her shoulders. She did smell like lavender, he noticed as her head fell back on his shoulder. He decided the new shampoo was much better and he loved knowing that it was him who picked it._

Mark found her sitting on a gurney in their usual spot, back against the wall and a bottle of water held up in her hand. Her leg was curved up and sitting on the edge of the bed while the other dangled over, moving back and forth absently. Her eyes caught sight of him and he forced his feet not to speed up when he noticed the smile curve her mouth and the sparkle in her eye. She had an effect on him that he'd never really been through before. There was a connection between them that he'd never taken the time to create with other women. Their relationship was built on trust, loyalty, friendship, and a love that turned even the hard-hearted him into a softy. She made him laugh, took away the stress when it became too much, listened to him rant about his patients or simply lay around with him when he just wanted some peace and quiet. She understood his moods, probably better than he did, could read his little actions as if he was telling her what they meant straight out, and loved his blunt attitude even when it was directed at her. He never though he'd find a woman who'd take the good and the bad and still love him for it; someone who knew his past and didn't hold it against him.

They stayed close friends for six months before he finally asked her out on a date; a real one too, not just out for a beer at Joe's in hopes that the tequila would do the work. He valued her more than that and they'd gone on probably the worst date known to man. The waiter spilled her dinner in her lap, knocked Mark's wine onto his dessert, charged them for a bottle twice as much as the wine they got, and reminded them that a tip was mandatory. By the time they left, Mark was in such a foul mood he was considering going back just to beat the clumsy twenty-something kid up, but then Meredith laughed. She laughed so hard she was clutching her sides, had tears in her eyes, and was almost falling over. And he joined her; he'd never laughed so hard in his life. For some reason he didn't know, she agreed to another date, and a few days later they went to a little diner a few blocks from the hospital, where they had burgers, fries, and a couple cokes. It was the best date he'd ever had. They talked, they laughed, they didn't spill one thing, the bill was pocket change, and they weren't unnecessarily interrupted by any waiters. When they walked out, he had her hand in his and he was walking on cloud nine. It was all good after that. They had their fights, they didn't always agree; him and George didn't like each other, he thought Izzie could be overbearing, she didn't like that he tended to flirt with the nurses without even trying to, he was still a little scared that she loved Derek, and she hated that he was insecure about someone she'd never loved like she did him. They were happy together though, despite the problems they had. They had their own house, aspirations for a future together, a job they both loved. No matter how much he flirted with nurses or whoever, he never once considered cheating. He'd put that in the past and he was fully committed to just Meredith. Their one-night stands were nonexistent any longer and their sexual appetite was very much fulfilled with each other.

He fell in love with her quickly, but he didn't tell her for almost a year of their relationship. She said it earlier, she took the chance and she told him while they were watching a Yankees and Mariners game, where they were cheering for opposite teams, on his big screen TV. It was a commercial break; he'd been getting them something to drink and bringing the finished platter of nachos into the kitchen. She slipped up behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her cheek pressed against his back. She said it very quietly, and he almost had to strain to hear her over the loud commercials playing in the background. She started out in a bit of a confusing babble, "You don't have to say it back. I'm not expecting some huge display or anything. I just wanted you to know that these last months have been wonderful; _you_ have been wonderful. I'm not sure what I expected when we got together but this is beyond anything I could have imagined. I mean, as friends we were great, but as _this_ we're... incredible. You know, no arrogance intended.

"I know we have a few problems and I know you probably won't believe me when I first say it, because you seem to think that my heart is always stuck on Derek and I can't just tell you that it's not, you need to believe it on your own. I mean, yes, I did love him. I think I'll always have those feelings, even if they're not as crippling as they used to be. But I'm not... I'm not pining after him. I'm not waiting for him to come back or- or using you until he does. You know?"

She didn't wait for him to reply and he didn't know what to say anyway. "I've enjoyed all of our time together. I feel so much lighter now, like I really have something to look forward to each day. It's nice waking up to you and seeing you or just hearing your voice. And I..." She sighed, her arms tightening around him. "I don't want you to freak out or run off or even stew over this too much. I want you to accept it as is and just... just _know_ that it's what I feel."

Her hands rubbed his stomach, palm somehow relaxing the rest of him as it methodically rubbed his abdomen, just like she did every time they finished making love. She'd wrap herself against his side and her hand would rub circles and shapes all over her stomach until he relaxed into a peaceful sleep, holding her comfortably against him.

"I love you," she said, her voice quiet but steady. A few moments later, she repeated it, louder and with no less strength. "I love you, Mark."

His breath caught and despite the fact that he felt it too, his mouth didn't work. The rest of him did, however, and he covered her still hand sitting on his side, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the palm. A few seconds later she was telling him the game was back on and things were back to normal. She told him not to stew, but he spent the majority of the game staring at her, a smile on his mouth that did nothing to hide how proud and secure he felt with her.

"How's my favorite plastic surgeon?" Meredith's voice interrupted his thoughts, drawing him back to her.

He grinned, his eyes taking in her happy expression. She'd been smiling more in the last few months, not that she hadn't been smiling a lot to begin with. But now she was radiant, almost glowing. Things had been going well for them; better than okay what with the wedding. But there was less drama lately. There were still the patients causing a ruckus and it seemed her friends lives were never boring, but he and Meredith had hit a long period of no problems. The house they wanted was all theirs, the day they wanted to get married on was free, the family and friends they wanted to invite were all able to come, and weird uncle Albert wasn't able to, their jobs were extra interesting, and not one dramatic end-all fight had separated them. There were no secret lurking lovers, or husbands and wives looking for their spouses. They had no secrets and their relationship was flourishing because of it. But that's what worried him. Given how dramatic their lives had always been, he was waiting for the shit to hit the fan; for somebody to object or get in the way or something. He knew she felt the same way, but she was dealing with it by simply enjoying the good time as long as she could.

Climbing up to sit next to her on the gurney, he leaned back against the wall and turned his face down so he was just inches from her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with amused adoration. "He's sick of interns and nurses and just about everyone in this hospital," he told her, nodding slightly, his eyes falling to her lips and then finding her green gaze again.

"Everyone?" she said, her voice cheeky, but quiet, as if trying to keep their conversation just between them, despite the emptiness of the hall.

"There might be a resident somewhere that he doesn't mind," he replied, his voice low and coaxing.

"Don't mind?" she said, laughing. Leaning back, she shook her head. "Well, I think we should search for her. Ask around, try and find her. Maybe she could cheer him up."

Grinning, Mark wrapped an arm around shoulder and pulled her up against his side. "She already has."

Meredith sighed comfortably, her head sitting on his shoulder and her legs lifted up to lay curved on the bed. "I got you an egg salad sandwich, no onions, and those cookies you like," she told him, her hand rubbing circles on his stomach absently.

"Yeah?" he said, letting his eyes fall shut and breathing in the jasmine scent of her shampoo. There was a hint of his soap on her skin too, after the shower the shared she came out smelling like him everywhere but on her hair. Unfortunately, she thought it'd be only fair to lather his hair with the same shampoo. There was something oddly intimate about knowing that they smelled like each other.

"Yeah. And an apple; a green one. Oh, and I got you a bottle of water, you need to cut down on the coffee, you practically live off of it," she told him, shaking her head slightly, her fingers curling and then straightening, scratching his side through his scrubs.

He snorted, "Like you're one to talk. And I'm a doctor; it'd be weird if I _didn't_ live off of coffee."

He could feel her smile against his chest. "Hey, I forgot, I have to go shopping with Cristina after work."

Mark smirked, his eyes opening as he shook his head. "This doesn't have anything to do with the dress you said you picked out but haven't yet, does it?"

"I _did_ pick a dress," she told him, lifting her head and staring at him with wide eyes. "Really!"

"You did not," he said, shaking his head. "There's only a week left. Personally, I wouldn't mind it if you showed up naked, but I'm not sure our guests would take it so lightly." He laughed at her indignant expression, kissing the top of her head and nuzzling her forehead with his cheek.

"Okay, I haven't, but I _will_. Today. I will. When I come home I will have a dress! You won't know it, because I can't show you, but I will have it," she told him decisively.

"Sure," he said, smiling to himself.

"You don't believe me," she accused, rolling her eyes.

"How many times have you said this?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"A… _few_," she admitted, looking away.

He snorted before sighing contently, "As long as you show up I'll be happy with whatever you're wearing." He hoped his slight insecurity didn't show. He was still waiting for that last anvil to drop and he knew that with their wedding approaching, it had to be coming.

She looked up at him, before throwing her leg up and over so she was sitting in his lap. He arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head leaned forward, forehead meeting forehead. Their gazes locked and she whispered, her mouth moving just barely, "Nothing will keep me from marrying you."

And he believed her.

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter Two: Bursting Bubbles

_**A Dark and Twisty Happily Ever After**_

_Chapter Two_

_Bubbles always burst. They were never meant to last forever. They're enjoyable for the first while and then they burst right in front of you. Sometimes the soap gets in your eyes and that bubble is always remembered badly. Despite the fact that it was at one time beautiful and provided an odd sense of happiness, it would be labeled from then on. Other bubbles seem almost unburstable, but they do, and we just have to trudge through the time between the next bubble comes along to shield us from the soapy, stinging eyes._

Izzie rolled her eyes, leaning back on the velvet cushioned stool she'd been sitting on for an hour. "Haven't you already tried that one on three different times? And every time you say..."

"Is my butt really _that_ big?" Meredith asked, twisting her lower body to examine it in the mirror, her mouth twisted and her brows furrowed.

"No. It's twice that size. Get the dress. Let's go," Cristina called out, exasperated.

"No. I don't even like this dress," she replied, frowning. Smoothing the material over her butt one more time, she finally sighed and hopped down, undoing the back as best she could before sliding it down her shoulders and letting it pool by her feet. Stepping around it, she walked back over to the racks of dresses that the woman had brought out. Meredith couldn't remember her name, but she was the same woman who met them every time and the same who scowled and lifted her nose as if she thought they weren't really there to get a dress, just to try them on and reject them over and over. But she'd promised Mark, for the nth time, and this time she was going to get a dress. He was right. The wedding was in a week and she still didn't have a dress.

"Will you just pick one already? Why is it taking you so long?" Cristina asked, chewing on an apple and skimming through a gossip magazine with a lifted brow and disbelieving quirk of her lips.

"What do you mean? I just haven't found one I liked." She frowned, searching through the hanging dresses for one with less... _poof_.

Izzie snorted. "You know, it could be a sign." She too had a magazine, but she was reading it intently, since it had to do with home decorating.

"A sign?" Meredith asked, lifting her head and staring at her blonde friend questioningly.

"Yeah, you know, like your not being able to choose a dress means that you're not ready to get married. Or... just not to Mark," Izzie told her, shrugging lightly, her eyes still glued to the magazine in front of her. "Hey, do you guy's think pink curtains would be a bit over the top in the living room? Not like fuchsia, but not too pale either."

Meredith's mouth fell open and she stared at Izzie in shock. "That's _ridiculous_!" she exclaimed, feeling a little burst of anger in her stomach at her friend. She knew that George and Izzie weren't exactly gung-ho for her to marry Mark. Ever since George and Callie divorced, he was the all-knowing formerly married one who constantly has an opinion on who he thinks should and should never get married. Izzie just didn't get along with Mark most of the time, she found him arrogant and was certain from the moment he and Meredith started dating that it would end in him cheating on her and she having a broken heart, again. But he hadn't cheated in the two and half years they dated and Meredith full-heartedly believed he never would. Cristina was rather 'meh' about the whole thing. She didn't dislike Mark but she wasn't exactly buddy-buddy with him. If anything though, she seemed to like him more than Derek.

"Well it wouldn't be _that_ bright," Izzie replied, looking offended.

"She doesn't mean the curtains, Barbie," Cristina explained, her expression clearly stating that she though Izzie was an idiot. Scoffing, she shook her head. "Seriously, the only other man that could ever get her to even consider walking down the aisle was Shepherd, and I for one, am glad he's not the one waiting at the end." Her eyebrows rose and she nodded decisively before tossing her OK! rag onto the endtable beside her.

Izzie rolled her eyes, but didn't reply.

"Okay, what is the big deal?" Meredith wondered, hands on her hips as she walked forward a few steps to stare at Izzie reproachfully. "Seriously! What is wrong with Mark? He's never treated me badly, never cheated, never called me a whore!" Her eyes widened with emphasis. "He's never left me or or hurt me or had a wife!" Her voice was raising and she knew her chest was heaving slightly. "So why? Why would you be so against me and him?"

Licking her lips, her eyes fell to the floor and she took a deep breath, relaxing her posture. "This is my wedding, Izzie. This is my wedding to the only man who's ever made me feel like I wasn't screwed up somehow. He loves me, whether I'm bright and shiny or dark and twisty. The only reason that I haven't picked out a dress is because this... this is my _wedding_ dress. I have to walk down an aisle and pledge myself forever to this person. I have to look fricken' perfect so that when all those people are sitting there watching, they're thinking, 'They fit! They look good together. She's just who I saw him settling down with.'" Rubbing the space between her eyes, she sighed through clenched teeth. "I'm marrying McSteamy!" she reminded, lifting her shoulders. "So damnit, I'm going to look beautiful!"

"Okay, Mer," Izzie said, her eyes widening slightly and a look of regret passing her features. "You will."

All of the anger evaporated from her and her shoulders slumped. "No, I won't! I can't find a dress. I don't want to get lost in taffeta and I don't want to have a butt bigger than my head!" she told them, frowning.

Standing up in a hurry, Izzie made her way over to the rack of dresses and started looking through them.

* * *

While Meredith was out searching for a wedding dress, Mark was sitting with his pseudo mother, Celia Shepherd, and soon to be sort-of-father-in-law Richard Webber. There had been a mix up with the invitations. And by mix-up he meant Celia had ordered all of her children to come to his wedding, including the one that Mark most definitely did not want there. He didn't mind if Derek's many sisters came. He'd grown up with them, enjoyed feeling like an older brother to them, and often considered them his real family. But he did not want Derek there. There had been a time where he thought they could work everything out. A lot of groveling and apologizing would eventually lead to Derek forgiving him and them slowly getting back to being like brothers, or at least friends. But situations arose and Derek's life wasn't going as planned, so he did what he always did when things weren't going right. He ran. 

Mark wasn't exactly upset with him for leaving, again, because it gave him a chance at something he'd never really thought he'd have when Addison left him, again. Derek's absence allowed him to get closer to Meredith and now he was sitting down discussing wedding invitations. But the idea that Derek might return had always sat funny in his stomach. For the first six months he hoped Derek would come back. He thought maybe he just needed some time to himself but he'd eventually come back and things would get back on track. But then he started seeing Meredith more regularly and he began wanting something more than just friendship with her. When that finally happened, he found that insecurity wasn't far behind. He loved her and he knew she loved him but Derek Shepherd had a _thing_ about him. Meredith had said it once before, "He's not the kind of guy you leave if you can help it." So he always had the lingering fear that Derek would come back and she would realize that she may still have a chance with him.

After three years, Mark was fairly certain that Derek wouldn't be coming back to claim her, but if he received an invitation to a wedding between her and the man who'd ruined his marriage, Mark wasn't so sure that he wouldn't want to settle the score. Or maybe he did still care, still loved her despite the long time between, and he'd come back and tell her so, just to rip away Mark's last chance at happily-ever-after. He didn't know. But at the moment, he was worried and angry.

"Why? Why would you send him, of all people, an invitation to _my_ wedding?" Mark asked, interrupting the squabble between Celia and Chief Webber.

"It wasn't my fault. I told her to ask you first. I didn't even have him on the list for who to invite," Richard told him, his face the picture of apologetic innocence.

"Now Markie, you have to understand," Celia began. Her shoulders were back and her chin was lifted. She was standing firm by her decision. "Derek was like a brother to you. All of my children were your siblings and I won't have them thinking they can't be a part of this day. This is one of the most important events of your life and I'm not letting any of them get out of it. He'll be here. He'll congratulate you. You'll thank me later!" She stared at him, her eyes wide and her brows high, as if telling him that if he even thought to contradict her he'd be in for one big rebuke.

"Uninvite him," Mark replied, frowning.

Celia stared back at him, eyes glaring into his own with resolve. "No."

"I don't want him there," he told her through grit teeth. "I don't even want him in Seattle, let alone sitting at my wedding."

"You don't mean that, Mark," she told him, her eyes softening as well as her tone. "You're just upset with him for leaving."

"No," Mark said, shaking his head. "I'm thankful he left. If he hadn't, it's pretty unlikely that this wedding would have been happening at all."

Celia tisked, a wry smile on her mouth. "Sweetie, if this is how it's supposed to be, then it's how it will be. You have to believe that no matter the situation, you two would have made it together. Otherwise, your love isn't strong enough or meant to last." She reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "Perhaps it was all in the plan to have Derek leave and you take his place in Meredith's heart. And perhaps this is just another way for you to test yourself and your relationship. Marriage is a big step, Markie. You have to be certain and you have to go into it with no fears or reservation or insecurities about each other and how you feel. It's not right to do it any other way." She sighed, patting his hand as it sat rigidly beneath hers. "Now I understand that you're upset that Derek has been invited and I take full responsibility for that. But understand that he may not come and if he should, then you just hold fast to what you believe. If you and Meredith are as strong as you think, as ready as you believe, then this marriage will happen and you won't regret it in the least," she told him fervently.

Mark paused, staring down with a sour expression marring his face. "I thought you were happy we were getting married," he finally said, his voice heavy with anger and hurt.

"I am. My personal opinion is that you and Meredith were meant to be together. That she loves you far more than you even realize. And that Derek, though I love my son dearly, was just a stepping stone to bringing you two together." She smiled at him gently, shaking her head. "But my opinion doesn't matter. Yours does."

"I want to marry her. I know I do," he exclaimed, his jaw tensing. "I love her. More than I've ever loved anybody and I don't... I don't want to lose her."

"Then don't," she said, nodding decisively. "We are all flawed people, Mark. You put too much stock into Derek. Meredith knows what he's done and how he's made her feel. Just as she knows what you've done and how you make her feel." She reached out, cupping his cheek in a motherly fashion. "She never left to find him and she never once faltered in her love for you, did she?" He shook his head. "Then have faith in that, Mark. Have faith in yourself."

Swallowing tightly, he nodded jerkily. He turned toward Richard, feeling slightly ashamed for his display of emotion, only to find that his boss had left the room at some point. He could hear the whistle of the tea pot in the kitchen and realized he had given him some time to discuss things openly, without intrusion. He silently appreciated the man's insight and returned his attention to Celia.

"What happens if... if she chooses him anyway?" he asked, voicing his fears aloud. Immediately after saying it, he wanted to take it back. If he hadn't said it, then he didn't have to consider it.

"Then you move on. You remember what it felt like to be loved and you find it in someone else. You don't give up, Markie. You just... find the right person for you." She smiled at him rather sadly, staring at him with a fondness she'd always had for him. He couldn't remember a time that she wasn't the mother he'd always wanted his own to be.

"She is that person," he told her, shaking his head. "I don't think there's anyone else I could... She's just it. There's not going to be anyone else. Last chance sort of thing." He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, feeling exhausted by the whole conversation.

"Oh sweetie," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I've only known you to truly love this way twice in your life, and even with Addison I believe it was more the dream she represented than her." She ran her hand over his hair, ruffling it slightly. "These insecurities of yours have been brewing since you were a little boy and that mother of yours didn't tell you how much you mattered. You've always felt like you had to have that shield up to protect you. This is one of the few times you've let it down. You let Meredith in entirely and you're scared that she's going to trample all over you in the end." She tisked, frowning. "You know her, Mark. You love her. Do you really believe she'd do that to you?"

"No," he replied, swift and strong. "But I'm no Derek Shepherd, either."

"No, you're not. You're Mark Sloan. And you have many great qualities, Markie. He is not perfect. None of us are. Meredith may have loved Derek, but that doesn't mean she loves you any less. The past is the past and that's where it should stay. You've grown up and you've evolved over the last few years. You're not the same person you were when she was with Derek. You're still seeing yourself in that category and that's a problem." She shook her head, looking up at him sadly. "Have you talked to her about this?"

He shrugged. "Not as in depth as this, but she knows I still worry that she has feelings for him."

"And what does she say?"

"That I'm being ridiculous and she never loved him like she does me."

"You see? Was she lying?"

He shook his head, his eyes falling. "I know. I know that she wants to marry me and she wants to have this future with me. But sometimes I just wonder... I mean if he were here, would she feel the same?"

"Well... you're about to find out then, aren't you?" she said, with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah... Yeah, I guess I am." He scowled, running a hand through his hair. He hoped it turned out in his favor. He needed it to.

* * *

"Okay, no, that one looks stupid," Cristina told them, shaking her head with an incredulous look on her face. 

"What? I like it. It's so... princess-y," Izzie said, poofing up the bottom.

"That's why it looks stupid," Yang told her, shaking her head.

Meredith sighed, frowning in the mirror at herself. "Seriously, how many dresses is that?"

"Too many," Cristina told her sighing with exasperation.

"We've got three left," Izzie said, walking over to the rack and pulling out another, the train of which was so long Izzie nearly tripped over it three times.

"No," Meredith said before she even reached her. "Is it really so hard to find one dress out of all these? Just one. One frickin' dress to make me look beautiful for a few hours!" she ranted, throwing her hands up.

As Izzie was returning the dress, she tripped over the train once more and toppled into a rack off to the side of the one she was going through. Her hands reached out, grabbing onto the closest thing possible as she fell. Laying on the ground, white fabric covering her face in a pile, she mumbled, "Ow."

Laughing, Cristina simply watched as Izzie pulled herself up from the floor, pushing the dress from off her face. Standing up, she scowled at the amused Cristina and moved to put the dress she'd grabbed to save herself back where it belonged, but paused. It was really quite beautiful. "Hey... Mer... Try this one," she called out, walking over to her.

Meredith reached out for it absently, shuffling off the podium she was on, the puffy dress she was wearing making a scratchy noise as she moved. Making her way into the dressing room, she struggled to get the dress off and out of the way as it seemed to take up the small room entirely. "What time is it?" she called out, muttering under her breath as her hair got caught in the zipper of the dress she was trying to take off.

"Almost six, why?" Izzie replied, still looking through dresses. "Ooh, Cristina, look at this one," she said excitedly.

"Do I look interested at all?" Cristina replied, looking up at her with irritation.

"Fine. Ignore me. But secretly, you love all this girly dress stuff," she said, smiling.

Muttering under her breath, Cristina shook her head at her and slumped down in her seat a little more. "Mer, hurry up. I'm getting tired of this."

"Just... Gimme... Okay!" The door opened and Meredith slipped out, her eyes lifting to look at her friends, who were staring back with stunned expressions. "What?" she wondered, her expression falling. "Is it really _that_ bad?"

They shook their heads slowly, mouths gaping.

"Okay, I'll take it off, just stop looking at me like--"

"No!" Izzie shouted, holding a hand up, her eyebrows high and her eyes wide. "Mer, look at yourself."

"Seriously?" Meredith asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Seriously," Cristina told her, her forehead wrinkled.

Still rather uncertain, Meredith slowly made her way over to the three part mirror angled to give her a view of all sides. She walked up the steps to stand center in the podium and slowly turned to see what the ruckus was all about, only to feel her breath catch in her throat. "Wow..." she murmured. "I look awesome!"

"Word!" Izzie exclaimed, hurrying over to grin at her excitedly.

"Nobody says 'word' any more, Barbie," Cristina told her, rolling her eyes before moving to stand on Meredith's other side. "Tell me this is the dress and we're done."

"This is the dress!" Meredith told her, grinning.

"And..." Cristina prompted hopefully.

"And now all I need is a veil," she replied, still examining herself in the mirror.

Cristina moaned in irritation. "You don't need a mosquito net, let's go."

"Oh! Oh I saw the perfect one for this dress, wait here," Izzie said, almost bouncing as she hurried off to another part of the store.

"So..." Cristina said, looking up at her as she smiled at herself in the mirror. "You're going to get married... in this dress... in just a week."

"Yes," Meredith said with a content sigh. "Yes, I am."

* * *

A few hours later, Meredith returned home, a black dress bag over her arm and a weary smile on her face. Kicking the door shut behind her, she toed off her shoes and followed the delicious scent of dinner into the kitchen, where she found Mark hard at work at the stove. Laying the dress bag over the island counter, she leaned her hip against it to watch him for a moment. Without Izzie's cooking to tide her over, Meredith was happy to find that Mark was actually an incredibly good cook. He was dressed casually in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white muscle shirt and she bit down on her bottom lip as she enjoyed the way his arms flexed when he reached out for various seasonings and stirred the food in the pans around the stove. She wasn't sure how long she watched him, her shoulders had slumped in a relaxed state of being while her stomach had tightened with an awareness of how comfortable she was in his presence. He put everything on dishes and then moved to put the dirty dishes in the sink, running the water over them and still having no idea that she was there at all. 

She crossed the white and black tile floor silently, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his back. She felt him tense for just a second before relaxing again. "Hey," he said, one of his hands covering hers on his abdomen. She felt his fingers slide between hers and nuzzled his back with her nose. "How was shopping?"

"Good," she said exuberantly. "I have a dress!" she exclaimed proudly. "And the proof is that bag," she added, motioning behind her.

Chuckling, Mark looked over his shoulder to the long black bag on the island. "Well done, Grey. I was beginning to worry."

"When we're married, are you going to start calling me Meredith or Sloan?" she teased, squeezing his sides with her arms.

She felt his laughter rumble out of him and loosened her arms as he turned around to face her. He leaned back against the counter lazily, his hands cupping her face, brushing away her bangs and stroking her cheek. He had a rather sarcastic smile on his face but his eyes glittered with a happiness that he'd sorely had in his life. "I think 'Meredith' is for special circumstances," he told her, his hands sliding down her neck slowly, smile growing as she shivered. His palms slid down her sides and settled low on her hips, squeezing them before he pulled her closer, her body fitting against his.

"Well you do shout it quite nicely," she replied, tipping her head back, her eyes gleaming with mirth and slowly glazing with the passion of the moment.

He stared into her eyes a moment, his mouth turning up in a slow smile. He leaned forward just enough for their noses to brush against one another, their mouths so close she could feel the heat of his breath burning against her lips. She felt her amusement waning as her body responded to the situation. Sliding her palms up his chest, Meredith wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She was so close she could see the flecks of grey in his steel blue eyes as they seemed to be taking in every inch of her face. Impatient, Meredith crossed the last few inches, pressing her mouth against his and feeling heat course through her. It seemed every nerve in her body lit up, her heart picking up a furious pace and all the air leaving her. He reacted as soon as her lips touched his, his tongue running against the seam of her mouth before entering to tangle with hers. She felt the whiskers of his beard tickle her skin and shivered delightedly.

His hands wandered all over her back and down across her butt, hands hooking around her thighs and dragging her up closer so her body was pressed against his, knees drawing up to cradle his hips as she met his mouth passionately. He pushed away from the counter, moving to put her on the edge of the island, her legs wrapped around him tighter, ankles locking. One of his hands rose up her back and into her hair, dragging the elastic out of it and letting her dirty blonde hair fall around her shoulders. His fingers tangled in the waves, dragging her mouth against his and holding her as close as he could. Meredith tugged his shirt up before sliding her hands under and pressing her palms into his hard, heated skin. She moved them around to his back, enjoying the feel of the muscles flexing and tensing beneath her fingers. He ground against her, his hardness pressing against the juncture of her thighs.

They broke apart for air, but Mark moved his mouth down her neck, tongue and teeth combining to make her arch into him, biting her lip against the tasty sensations. He pushed the shoulder of her shirt out of the way, his mouth trailing across her skin heatedly. She murmured his name, her eyes fluttering, as he pulled her shirt down low enough to expose her chest to him, his mouth quickly finding all the sensitive areas and exploiting them for all they were worth. She didn't care that they were in the middle of their kitchen, right in front of the window to their front yard. It didn't occur to her that their meal was cooling on the counter, a waste of good food.

She loved his mouth. He had the perfect lips and he knew just how to use them. His tongue was an experience unmatched by any other. There was an urgency in his movements that was rare for him. He usually enjoyed taking it slow, teasing her until she was begging him for more. He was a master at the art of love making and she never underappreciated that in him. But now he was just moving clothes out of the way instead of taking the time to slowly get rid of them. They'd had their quickies, of course. Various places in Seattle Grace were christened by them, but usually at home he took his time. She wondered what brought on the mood, but didn't have much in the way of serious thought since he was doing the most delicious things with his hands.

Before long his sweatpants were pushed down and her jeans were laying in a pile on the floor. His arms were tight around her, almost so much so that she wasn't able to move far. Her thighs shook against his sides as he slid into her. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, mouth kissing her skin as he thrust a deep and hard beat against her. She cried out, tremors coursing through her body. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, fingers tugging on his hair. She loved the wild and hard Mark just as much as his tender and loving side. She knew as soon as it was over he'd soothe away the harshness of their embrace and give her some insight as to why it happened in the first place.

She was teetering over the edge within minutes, her bottom lip sore from her teeth scraping against it to hold back the shouts that begged exit. His back flexed as her hand fell against it, the raw strength sending another tremor of excitement through her. Were she a vain person, she could understand why any woman would be solely attracted to Mark for his outward appearance. He was more than handsome, he was on another plain all together. Maybe she was biased, but she'd never been with anybody more attractive. His body, his face, his arrogance even.

She felt him bite her shoulder and let go of the last lingering hold she had on sanity. Her mouth fell open, a gutteral noise of satisfaction escaping her at an overwhelmingly loud volume. For a moment, sound escaped her, as did sight. Her body shook all over, and she fell against Mark as he too slumped into her. His weight was heavy against her, but she had a feeling he'd fall if he moved away. His hands stroked her back slowly, fingers soothing her sweaty, tingling skin.

He kissed her neck softly, trailing up the curve with sweet, tender kisses. She stroked his hair, her eyes closed and her breathing evening out. His shirt was sticking to him and his body was standing at a funny angle, but he didn't let go just yet. He used his elbows on the counter to hold himself up a little more, his mouth making a path up her face to the corner of her eye before going back down to slide across her lips. He kissed her slowly, drawing her into a lazy, passionate clash of lips. One of his hands raised to run down her hair before settling on her back as he stood up on shaky legs, hugging her against him.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, a sliver of insecurity in his voice.

Meredith wanted to move back to see his face but he buried it against her shoulder again, tightening his arms so she couldn't see him. She wrapped her arms around him, fingers stroking the back of his neck. "Of course I do. I love you, too, Mark."

She felt him sigh against her neck and frowned. Something was wrong.

"There might be an unexpected guest at the wedding," he muttered, sounding almost angry.

"Who?" she asked, furrowing her brow. They'd already talked to everybody who was coming and it was a little late for people to be calling in to say they were coming.

He didn't reply right away and felt him tense up in her arms.

"Mark? Who might be coming?" she asked again, becoming rather worried about who could be crashing their wedding. He mumbled something against her shoulder and she rolled her eyes. "Now say it so I can understand you," she told him.

"Derek," he said clearly, his arms tightening around her.

"Derek," she repeated. "Shepherd?" She shook her head, it was a stupid question, she knew. "What? Why?"

"Celia sent him an invitation. Something about how all her children would be there and she wouldn't let them out of it. Family crap."

"Well... He wouldn't... I mean, why would he..." She shook her head, biting her lip and feeling a burst of annoyance well up in her. She didn't want him there. She didn't want him ruining this day for her. It was supposed to be bright and shiny and he was going to make it dark and twisty. She didn't need that. Not on her wedding day. "Can't we uninvite him?" she asked hopefully.

Mark chuckled lightly, shaking his head against her shoulder. "Unfortunately, no."

Sighing, Meredith slumped against him. "So we'll put him somewhere in the back," she said quietly. "Pretend he's not there."

He nodded silently, kissing her shoulder.

Meredith felt worry settle in her stomach. She knew Mark probably took this as a bad sign. He'd been waiting for something to go wrong all along. She dearly hoped Derek would just stay wherever he was and if he didn't, then she hoped he stayed out of her relationship with Mark. With a frown, she knew things were going to get bad and regretted that her happiness was going to be spoiled once more by the likes of Derek Shepherd.

* * *

**A/N** _Sorry this took so long. I was half done and I finished a lot of it last night but then this morning I put the last few touches on it. I hope you've enjoyed it. I'll try and update again soon. I'm currently working on a new chapter to "Starting From Scratch," so I'll have that up soon too! REVIEW!_


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